


Lessons Learned

by Ihsan997



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Duelling, Education, Gen, Immaturity, Injury, Lightsaber Battles (Star Wars), Lightsaber Training (Star Wars), Lightsabers (Star Wars), Loss of Limbs, Major Character Injury, Mocking, Permanent Injury, Planet Korriban | Moraband (Star Wars), Sith Shenanigans (Star Wars), The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), The Force, Training, Training Camp, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihsan997/pseuds/Ihsan997
Summary: This is a prequel story to an RP I performed on the Star Forge Roleplay forums with the player of Lady Ionia Talvas. There’s a time gap in between the events of this prequel and the RP of nearly a year, putting the exact time frame of this story as 26ATC (or 3,627BBY).I don’t own Star Wars.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Raise guard. About face. Strike down. Raise guard. Repeat.

Such was the chant of the ten pupils performing finishing drills at the end of a two-hour session of Djem So practice. Every other day for the past six months, the intermediate-level acolytes lined up and waited for their perennially late lightsaber instructor to arrive and unlock the door to the open-air training yard tucked against a rocky outcropping near the far eastern wing of Korriban’s primary academy. For the last five minutes of the session, their black-clad instructor, a pureblood man with slicked-back hair, shouted out orders to them as they performed form drills which many of them balked at yet which all of them followed. No matter how good they thought they were, he never allowed them to forget practicing the basics.

At the end, the elder Sith stood in front of his ten pupils and looked over their stance, even their resting stance when holding their training sabers. “Any questions?” he said, going through the motions just as they did even when he knew that none of them would speak up. “Dismissed,” when none of them spoke after a long, half-a-minute pause in which he stared at all of them. “Shower, [i]eat[/i], and for the sake of the Force, I don’t want to see any of you walking around the academy wearing the same pants two days in a row again.”

He left with a brusque pace and a military gait, both because he had work to do and because he forced them all to work for their questions. Rather than asking questions when he checked, all ten of the acolytes pretended to pack up their towels, bags, and practice sabers while not-so-subtly vying for the most direct path to ask their instructor questions after the lesson had completed, annoying him to no end.

The first student, a Nautolan who’d been following him around the academy for nearly a week, first caught up to him at the door. “Lord Xuvas, can I join your class on Juyo? They say you’re a master-“

“No, and flattery gets you nowhere.”

The second student, a Human from the Outer Rim who spoke Basic as a second language, caught up to him as he set a timer on the door, threatening to lock any stragglers inside the training yard. “My lord, can I meet you for office hours tomorrow?”

“No. You don’t need office hours with a lightsaber instructor.”

The third student, another Human from a family who knew the pureblood’s family socially, tried to saunter her way behind him as he walked toward the staff-only locker room. “So, Lord uncle-“

“I’m not your uncle, I haven’t seen you since you were in diapers, and nepotism doesn’t work here.”

The fourth student, a red Zabrak who’d actually shown promise, literally ran after the pureblood instructor, levitating his gym bag behind him while struggling to catch up. “Lord Xuvas, I just have one question-“

“No.”

Before the promising student could debase himself by asking a second time, Xuvas entered the staff-only locker rooms and slammed the door shut, making it clear that questions were only to be asked during question time. Neither sighing nor slowing down, Xuvas removed his outdoor outfit used for combat instruction while still walking toward one of the refreshers, threw the garments at a laundry droid, and entered the dual shower-toilet unit wordlessly. He actually used Force speed to wash more quickly, walked out in the same wordless manner once he sensed that he was alone, and started walking toward the other end of the locker room while hopping on one foot and then the other to get dressed. He’d only pulled a robe on over his undershirt just in time before he walked out of the staff-only locker rooms at the other end of the building, not responding to the various acolytes who stood in between him and a classroom building diagonally across a plaza featuring a statue of Sorzus Syn glaring judgmentally at all who walked past.

Once he’d entered the dark grey building in question, he brushed past a number of students who briefly tried to approach him before giving up. His goal was within one of the various classrooms in the building, and once he sensed that goal’s signature in the Force, he had no intention of slowing down. The automatic door slid open for him, revealing a room with a series of mats on the floor arranged in a horseshoe formation facing toward the front of the room. Four acolytes were already sitting cross-legged and chatting quietly while waiting for their master to enter and sit at the front. And yet, once Xuvas had entered, he sat down on one of the mats alongside the acolytes, causing a few of them to avert their eyes awkwardly.

Content to sit and wait until the woman of the hour arrived, Xuvas said nothing at first and didn’t acknowledge the acolytes seated as he was. When the automatic doors entered alongside the Force signature of another neophyte, he prepared himself for another barrage as a [i]fifth[/i] one of his own lightsaber pupils walked inside, a capable young man from Bosthirda who rarely spoke up. He sat on the mat directly next to Xuvas, and the pureblood foresaw that the student would try to segue into questioning which should have been left for another time.

“Oh, Lord Xuvas! I didn’t see you there!” the young Human lied. “Will you be teaching us today?”

“No,” the pureblood said curtly, though he didn’t go so far as to ban a student from speaking in another teacher’s classroom.

“Oh, very well then. Will you…be observing Lady Naishah?”

“In a sense,” he replied in just as curt a manner as previously. The Bosthirdan acolyte certainly earned an A for persistent effort, however.

“Are you…are you evaluating her performance?” the young man asked, though he averted his gaze as well when Xuvas’ feeling of annoyance spiked in the Force.

“That’s not a matter of discussion among the student body. I’m here on a mat next to you, and all you need to know is that we’re to remain alert and responsive when our instructor enters.”

Still deferent, the Bosthirdan Human glanced up for a split second in confusion. “Yes, our instructor. In this context, I’m merely another learner of the minute details of a particular Force technique at which she excels. I’ve no interest in fielding your questions; ask Overseer Naishah when she enters.”

The young man looked down again, eyes widened and brow furrowed. His perplexed reaction spilled out into the Force before he even spoke. “If you’re an instructor…are you…did you…focus only on lightsaber combat when you were an acolyte?” the Human asked meekly, prepared to flinch in case he were backhanded. Such a reaction was far from Xuvas’ intent.

“I focused on the same techniques as other warriors, and I graduated the academy; and yet, here I am. Listen carefully because this is a teachable moment. One [i]never[/i] stops learning; not in combat, not in technical skills, and especially not in the Force. The greatest dark lords continued learning until the moments of their death, and some even thereafter. The moment you here a so-called Sith claim that they’ve nothing left to learn, then know that you’ve already identified their weakness.”

The young man hung onto the pureblood’s every word, nodding in affirmation though still perplexed at Xuvas’ presence in the classroom. What he ultimately took from the exchange would be his own responsibility; experience had taught the elder Sith that excessive handholding wouldn’t benefit young learners. There was no time to dwell on the acolyte’s reaction, however, because the Force signature of the person he’d gone there to actually see. As the automatic door opened, Xuvas stood as the acolytes did and bowed toward a demure Mirialan Sith radiating the dark side into the whole building. The concentration of a few of the acolytes was disturbed by their surprise at the novelty of an instructor joining them in study; in a way, that would be a lesson in and of itself over the next few weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roughly two and a half weeks later...

A few weeks later, Xuvas was walking from a faculty office building at the academy toward one of the classroom buildings, tailed by a protocol droid recording a few dictations he’d been delivering. While he made his way through an outdoor gallery of obelisks and leafless desert trees, he passed by a handful of acolytes who’d just been released from a few different lessons in the classroom buildings to the side of the gallery. Xuvas paid them little mind and spoke in a low voice.

“All lightsaber training courses were completed as of two days ago; I forgot what day that was exactly, so note that down with the proper date.”

“Noted, my lord,” the droid responded in an automatic staccato voice.

“My own course of study isn’t set to end for another three weeks; this isn’t long enough for a proper, long-term lightsaber instructional, but I could oversee Force lightning control for the beginner period. I believe there’s a two-hour period held four mornings a week, so log my name as one of the available instructors for the next two weeks before the scheduler’s session tomorrow.”

“The scheduler’s session will meet today, my lord,” the droid responded again while struggling to match the Sith’s pace. Xuvas slowed down at the revelation, granting the droid enough time to catch up.

“Hmm…better to log my name in now, in that case. I’ll record my thoughts on my wristpiece; you just follow and put my name in there.”

“Of course, my lord,” the droid responded again before falling silent. It’s head bobbed a few times while it accessed the academy holonet, leaving Xuvas to reach up with his wristpiece.

“Note to self: contact Overseer Naishah, see if she’ll be at the faculty canteen at dinner time tonight. She isn’t free all day today, but I only need a few minutes to discuss the office handover process. I’ve already sent her enough holotaped messages to sift through, so it’s better for me to deliver a message this brief in person-“

Just then, his wristpiece actually gave off a little alarm bell. He checked to see that several of the classroom courses for the youngest acolytes would be released soon, leading to a flood of teens and pre-teens wandering around asking anyone who looked like a teacher a hundred and one stupid questions. Wanting to keep his distance from the young and the foolish, Xuvas changed his path from walking on the side of a foot path to the middle of a median covered in twisted desert trees so as to avoid the initial barrage of lost acolytes who couldn’t find the correct building or hall number. He had voice notes to dictate, and he didn’t need a horde of petitioners interrupting him.

The acolytes trickled out of the doors to the classroom buildings, most of them preoccupied with their schedules and duties in the high-pressure environment of the academy. For a good few moments, Xuvas was able to collect his thoughts before checking on the progress of his protocol droid, free of such interruptions at first. What disrupted his train of thought wasn’t a student, but rather, the pinprick in the Force of another lord referring to him. The unintentional precognition was one he’d long since gotten used to: the recognition of the Force sensitive when they said the same word at the same time, noticed each other’s footprints, or spoke of each other when nearby. Without looking, he sensed that the individual who’d mentioned his name was nearby, ahead of him, and surrounded by less-seasoned Force-users. Under normal circumstances, Xuvas would have not only ignored the tug in the Force but also have actively avoided the person, lest he be dragged into a question session from acolytes who wouldn’t contact him through formal routes. However, he sensed a measure of hostility in the presence, even scorn, which attracted him like a moth to flame.

Walking out of the tree-lined path in the median, Xuvas found a group of acolytes collected around a large Human beneath an awning on the side of a classroom building. The youths crowded closely and stared up in awe as if they were children meeting a cartoon character, hanging on every loudly-spoken word. Donning absurdly spiky armor in spite of being in a safe territory, the lord who had the young people’s attention spoke in a high volume unbefitting a man his age, akin to a teenager who spoke loudly in order to grab the attention of passersby. Without even knowing the man, Xuvas already disliked him; the pomp and basking in the adulation of the unproven gave the pureblood a twinge of nausea, and he pitied the acolytes who were taken in by the performative theatrics of the type of master who actually enjoyed the admiration of teenagers.

One of those teenagers revealed the reason for the tug in the Force, though. A skinny Nautolan boy waved a hand to get the unfamiliar lord’s attention, and Xuvas felt his name being mentioned again. The aforementioned fellow Sith turned around, revealing a top-heavy man whose neck bulged with veins abused by steroids. An oddly shiny face which had been shaped by plastic surgery twisted in contempt in spite of the two never having met, and Xuvas stopped walking. Not even knowing what had been said, Xuvas judged the individual as a cretin, though he didn’t react visibly. A sort of mockery wafted off of the synthetically crafted visage.

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” the other Sith said in an unnecessarily loud voice. “This is what I don’t want for you.”

Without approaching, for he didn’t want to grant such a baselessly bold figure too much attention, Xuvas stood with a stiff military posture while regarding the strangely hostile peer. “Do you have a problem, sir?” the pureblood asked in a flat tone, not interested in the answer so much as informing the haughty man that Xuvas had heard him.

He’d expected his impolite peer to show a measure of shame upon exposure, but the unapologetic Human sneered, revealing teeth so perfectly symmetrical and shapely that they were likely artificial. “That’s Lord Maximal to you, mister teacher,” the armored Sith replied in a tone so swift that the admiring acolytes looked taken aback by the unprovoked harshness. “So that’s the start of the problem right there.”

The Human known by such a ridiculous name even granted Xuvas pause with the hostility. The pureblood hadn’t been in such an immature exchange since his youth, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Here was another grown adult, one he’d never met before, speaking out of turn in full view of students who either of them could end up instructing one day. If he didn’t respond, he ran the risk of projecting weakness in the face of an enemy; if he did respond, he could be dragged down by an idiot and beaten with experience in a petty squabble.

Choosing his words very carefully, he folded his arms, for the subtle gesture was all he could do to project disapproval of the uncalled for reaction without responding in kind. “If you have a problem, [i]sir[/i],” Xuvas said, causing the man named Maximal to grimace, “then you can find my office hours and location for a follow up discussion once you’re done with your students here.”

Once again, this increasingly petulant peer surprised Xuvas with willingness to debase his own self for the sake of picking an argument with a stranger. Maximal turned to face him directly, pumping his fingers open and closed to flex puffy, oddly bulbous muscles revealed by armor which was impractically and nonsensically sleeveless. “Lord Maximal doesn’t teach; the likes of [b]you[/b] overseers provide that service for the likes of us. You’d best remember that.”

The contempt in Maximal’s voice and face suggested either a long burning rivalry - which wasn’t the case - or some sort of need to establish dominance in front of a group of teenagers. Xuvas had little time to dwell on whatever experiences had caused a grown man to crave adulation in such a manner, nor did he have the patience to care. “If you have a problem with our instructional methods, sir,” Xuvas replied, eliciting another grimace from Maximal and a humored gasp from the acolytes, “then I’ll gladly show you the way to the headmaster’s office so you may file a grievance.”

Indignation rose in Maximal’s Force signature, both at Xuvas’ refusal to refer to him as a fellow lord and the suggestion that he file a report. “I don’t need any lessons from you, mister teacher; unlike you, I earned my way off this rock years ago.”

For the first time, Xuvas reacted outwardly, scowling at the terse expression. “This rock?” he asked. “You refer to the birthplace of our Order as a rock?”

The significance of Korriban’s importance lost on him, Maximal waved a hand at Xuvas in a manner which caused the Nautolan acolyte to stifle a laugh but which caused the other acolytes to uncomfortably search for means to walk away from the verbal exchange without being noticed. “I am [b]Lord[/b] Maximal, decimator of star systems, and I came here to give orders for my potential apprentice slots, not to take lessons from an overseer who still hasn’t finished his own training.”

Now Xuvas knew what Maximal had initially referred to: the former’s enrollment in classroom instruction at the academy. Anger was replaced by a sense of disappointment as he realized he was once again dealing with yet another edgy ladder-climber. “A wise man once noted that arrogance is a weakness easily exploited,” Xuvas said, trying to both talk sense into a potential peer mired in overpowered delusions of grandeur, and to demonstrate a mature response to the acolytes who were still close enough to hear whether with their ears or through the Force. “The moment a warrior stops learning, they stagnate. If they stagnate, then they’re [i]not[/i] a Sith.”

“That’s the statement of a man who hasn’t achieved real ultimate power!” Maximal shot back far too soon to have actually considered Xuvas’ words. He didn’t seem to really be listening so much as responding, and the way he rolled his shoulders implied that he’d taken this as some sort of a demonstration of said power. “Call me when you actually learn to do your job properly, because all I see is a teacher who never finished being a student.”

Xuvas’ scowl from the flippant comment about Korriban had subsided, leaving him more outwardly aloof even while he spoke as tactfully as he would act in war. “If you’re so convinced that you have nothing more to learn, then you should be able to handle a demonstration for the sake of the young learners. I’m one of the academy’s Djem So instructors; I’d like to invite you to demonstrate your ability to defend against my strikes to show off your prowess tomorrow.”

“Just stand there and let you take pot shots? Yeah, that’s not happening!” Maximal forced himself to cackle, much as Xuvas had expected. “If you bring that twig you call a lightsaber anywhere near me, I’ll destroy you so fast that even [b]I’ll[/b] be surprised!” the prideful peer said again, also as Xuvas had expected.

Xuvas titled his head at the towering showman, preparing for the embarrassing coup de grace. “Why are you too scared to accept? I’d have thought one as confident as yourself wouldn’t run away from a professional challenge so readily.”

Maximal’s Force signature blared, bleeding into the area all around them and reminding Xuvas that a few more acolytes had started hovering around corners and behind trees tp spy on the verbal spat when he felt their Force signatures spike in fright and curiosity. “You’re scared! Shut your mouth, you’re scared!” Maximal said in a voice too harsh and choked to be considered yelling. His entire visage shifted from that of mockery to insecurity. Not that he was actually scared; his aura made that very clear. “A peon like you doesn’t even have the right to be talking to me!”

Maximal then spread his feet more widely, taking what seemed to be a fighting stance, though its origins were unclear. Xuvas didn’t move or shift from his arms-folded position. “As an overseer at this academy, I have the right to order your departure if you don’t stop making a scene,” he warned, though that warning failed to embarrass Maximal, as embarrassment would require him to have a sense of shame first.

Anabolic anger mixed with testosterone, and the small comment grated on Maximal’s nerves as much as the suggestion that he was afraid. “No, you depart! Get out of my sight!” the odious, offended Sith said, speaking with a conviction which implied that he actually thought puffing out his chest and staring down an overseer would work.

“You’ve exhausted all warnings. You’re neither faculty nor staff, so I’m ordering your now, sir, to leave,” Xuvas replied, following Imperial protocol to the tee and thus insulting Maximal’s inflated sense of self-importance.

In a perplexing act which Xuvas also hadn’t been faced with since his youth, another Sith pulled a weapon on him. Removing an ancient Sith sword from a hilt which was far too ornate for the pureblood’s tastes, Maximal wielded the weapon and caused the acolytes to skitter away, even the skinny Nautolan boy, to hiding spots where they could watch from afar. “I am the decimator of star systems!” Maximal yelled while swinging the sword like a maniac.


End file.
